


Private Moments

by lacewingss



Category: The Expanse Series - James S. A. Corey
Genre: Male Solo, Masturbation, Other, Smut, The Expanse, a bit a fluff too, book spoilers kind of, but not in any major way, jerking off in space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:06:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8046964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacewingss/pseuds/lacewingss
Summary: It's hard to find a moment alone on the Rocinante. Its small crew take the moments of solitude when they present themselves, and enjoy the pleasure of their own company.





	Private Moments

It was easy to form a cycle on long flights. Wake up, have coffee with the crew, tend to the ship like tending to a lover or a child, sleep. Repeat a hundred times over. The routine was comforting in its consistency, in the way it passed the arbitrary days and months. Sometimes, though, there were hitches in those cycles. They ranged from the chaotic to the utterly mundane, and as the crew of the Rocinante had had enough of chaotic to last a lifetime, Alex could find no reason to complain over the the simple problem of insomnia.

The clock on his hand terminal told him it was two in the morning ship time. He had settled into his crash couch almost three hours ago, loosely strapped in to keep from straying too far in the gentle one fourth g. Three hours of closing his eyes and opening them again, of playing mindless matching games on his terminal, and a brief span when he could hear the low mummers of conversation passing through the hall. Three hours in which he had not slept at all.

He ran a hand through his thinning hair, doing nothing to tame the way it stuck out at odd angles. If sleep was not going to come he might as well embrace being awake. He unclasped himself from the couch and made his way to the galley, the dim lights on the wall illuminating a path he could have maneuvered with his eyes shut. Years on the Roci had made its narrow corridors and rounded corners as familiar as his own body, and sometimes Alex had the conflicting feeling he had spent more time in her than in his own skin.

The galley was empty, as it often was during the night. The rest of the crew were safely tucked away in their own cabins, sleeping away the passage of time. That was fine. It was nice, in fact. Even with less than a skeleton crew it was difficult to find time alone on a ship this size.

Alex pushed himself over to the coffee maker, idly wondering if the late dose of caffeine was what was keeping him awake in the first place. Life on a long haul was in the small pleasures, though, and so he replaced the grounds with a fresh batch and set the machine to working. With his hand on the counter he could feel the low vibrations of the coffee maker mingle with the hum of the ship. The sensation transferred up from the metal into his fingers and up his arm, a gentle thrum that if he did not concentrate on was lost.

When the machine's light turned from red to calming green Alex poured himself a cup and stirred, electing this time for two creamers in place of one. The faintly acrid smell pushed sleep even further away, but Alex found himself smiling despite it. Holden had it right: there was something about a hot cup of coffee that did the soul good.

Humming a half remembered song to himself, Alex floated his way up to ops, then through the hatch to the pilot's cockpit. His couch there was more familiar to him than the one in his quarters, the gel conforming to his body in an intimate way. He let the bulb of coffee float at his side, the steam wafting up and dispersing into the air.

The first thing he did was turn the cockpit terminal's screen to a view from the cameras outside the ship. With enough suspension of belief he could pretend the screen was a window, and that he was staring right out into space and not through multiple hulls and knots of wires.

He looked out across the vast field of stars and the emptiness that lay between. The sun was only a bright dot among many, Earth And Mars and every spot humans had put their boots down imperceptible. They were there though, he knew. Small and insignificant but so very important to the people who called them home.

He and the rest of the crew were racing towards those homes that not one of them wanted to return to. Places with histories and memories and that gentle pulling sensation of gravity that depended not on physics but on being human.

But Alex knew for him home was not the domes and corridors of Mars, or the vast open skies of Earth. It was not the holes and alleys of Ceres, or even the artificial gravity of Tycho Station. Home was a metal tube of trapped air, a series of machines that kept his insides from boiling or freezing or both. It was the Rocinante, flying through the empty places between rocks and stars and whatever else was hidden in the vacuum of space. Home was his ship, though in truth it was all of theirs. Holden and Naomi, Amos; the Roci was each of theirs, in both a home and a possession. But it was purely Alex's in its own way, the way a ship can only belong to its pilot.

He turned the view off and flipped through a few more screens, monitoring the breath and life of the ship, noting that all was well that could be well. It would take time for the Roci to heal once it docked at Tycho Station, but for now she was soldiering on, battle wounds mended as best they could. His girl was a fighter, and Alex had no doubt she would make it through the remainder of this trip in once piece.

The Roci was a constant. Dependable, sure and certain. More than half a decade with her had passed and she had never once wavered under his touch. Alex could only wish he had that same devotion in him. That he had been able to be a constant when it was asked of him.

Alex shook his head and reached for his coffee. No use thinking about that now. Time and distance had a way of making the past seem closer than it was. Too close for comfort. So he pushed it back as far as it would go, and sipped on his bulb.

It was then he realized just how very alone he was.

He had noticed it before, in the galley, but now he was separated from the sleeping crew by another level of the ship. Even the hum of the thrusters was quieter here. If he closed his eyes he could imagine himself the only living thing for millions of miles. It was an odd sensation.

Taking another sip of coffee, Alex wondered over how to spend the rest of the night. He could skim over more reports, go back to playing the games on his hand terminal. Or...

The solitude was alluring in a way he had not thought of for some time. Usually there was not time to think of such intimate, physical things. Now, however, there was time, and he was more alone than he had been in weeks.

Alex shifted in his seat, suddenly aware of the pressure building between his legs. He let the bulb rest in the air again and reached a hand down to rub against his forming erection over his pants.

How long had it been since he had last pleasured himself? Really took the time to enjoy the sensation of his hands passing over his skin, of the heat rising in his chest and flushing his cheeks. Before Ilus for certain, maybe even before passing through the ring towards the new planet. It had been a while.

He shifted again in the crash couch, this time leaning back and letting his head loll to the side. From over his sweats he rubbed himself until his cock was fully hard, pressing up against the fabric due as much to the low g as to his arousal.

He should go back to his quarters. He couldn't do this here. He _shouldn't_ do this here.

“Ah, what the hell,” he said with a half shrug. If he really wanted to think about it, which he didn't, he figured Holden and Naomi already defiled half the ship with their lovemaking. A little indulgence of his own wouldn't be minded.

Sliding the hem of his pants down, Alex coaxed his penis out and over the elastic. In the low gravity his erection seemed to stand up straighter, to fill more space than it would otherwise. He chuckled to himself, _if only._ That was one good thing about living outside of a gravity well. Everything seemed younger, less worn or abused. His hair may be thinning and wrinkles starting around his eyes, but at least his dick still looked pleasing enough. Not that anyone was seeing it, but again, it was the small things. 

With one arm reaching up to bend behind his head, Alex focused the other on his shaft. He stayed away from the head at first, bringing his strokes up only midway before returning to the base. He took his time, lazily keeping pace while taking easy, deep breaths. 

He let his eyelids flutter shut. Not the best idea in full view of anyone who happened to wander into ops, but that was unlikely. The Roci faded away around him, even the comforting vibration of the thrusters receding until there was nothing left but the friction of his hand rushing over his skin. 

He thought of Talissa's face, of one of the scientist's on Ilus that had shyly flirted with him. Mostly he thought of nothing. It was not the nothing of space, or the nothing of unconsciousness. It was the warm nothing of contentment, of pleasure for pleasure's sake.

Without really noticing he was doing it, Alex started thrusting his hips up into his hand. His cock, now slick with a fine layer of precome, slid through his rounded fist as it rushed down to meet the thrusts. He was no longer reaching only mid shaft but continuing all the way to the head, where he paused to give a soft squeeze and let a shudder wrack through him.

The atmospheric controls had not been touched, yet Alex felt beads of sweat on the back of his neck. The heat in his body was rising, leaving him flushed and breathing in quick, sharp inhales. A small noise of pleasure escaped his pursed lips, and he opened his eyes in response, worried he had alerted someone to his deeds.

He was still alone, because  _of course he was still alone._ He relaxed and resumed his steady strokes, this time keeping his eyes open and on the movement of his hand. His other arm moved from its spot behind his head to cup his balls, and the sudden pressure on the sensitive area caused him to voice his pleasure a second time. 

Alex continued for as long as he could stand. Bringing himself to the edge and teasing himself away, wanting to prolong the experience as much as he was able. Who knew the next time an opportunity like this would come along? He was going to make the most of it. 

He knew he could no longer hold back his orgasm when the edges of his vision started to blur, and the heat in his chest was like being in a EVAC suit facing the sun. With a final slow stroke from base to head he climaxed, his head falling back into the seat with a long, low moan.

His penis twitched in his hand, no longer hard but folding forward, spent. He tucked it away under his pants, then carefully scooped up the pearly come that floated in the air a few inches above his legs. Best not to leave any trace of what he had done in the cockpit.

Alex yawned and snuggled deeper into the comfortable gel of his crash couch. He was finally tired, more relaxed than he had been in weeks. He could make out the sounds of the Roci now – the quiet thrum of its core and the occasional blip of its systems. They were soothing noises, and in his endorphin addled mind they sounded like a lullaby. Like home.

 


End file.
